


Right Here

by Tay (erentitanjaeger)



Series: The Drug Cartel AU [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst With A Happy End, Drug Dealing, Drug Use, F/M, M/M, Mafia AU, dealing with grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:37:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9561701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erentitanjaeger/pseuds/Tay
Summary: “I hate to be cliché,” Shiro wore a smile, the same smile that had Keith on his knees by the end of their very first date, “but the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated.”“Yeah, no shit!” Was what Keith so eloquently replied with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ive been thinking about a fake death encounter for a while and thought keith and shiro would be the perfect couple to explore that
> 
> dont quit ur job to become drug smugglers guys
> 
> not cool

**Now**

When Shiro died, Keith did too.

Not in the physical sense.  Keith was still, sadly, still an ever present existence in this world.  He just didn’t feel like he should be.  Like he ever wanted to be.

All his friends had tried so very hard to console him, to get him back up on his feet, to make him smile.  They tried humouring him; taking him out drinking, dancing, spending enormous amounts of money, and that worked for a time.  While his friends were still in mourning.

Then they began to move on.

They finished their degrees and graduated and got jobs and assignments and projects.  They bought houses and apartments, went on vacations, got married and eventually managed to forget all about Takashi Shirogane.  Keith wasn’t mad.  He knew they loved him, always.  Would never truly forget him.  And he could never be mad if they found a way out of this hell hole that was grief.

Five stages and Keith ran through the first four like clockwork. 

He’d wake up one day, his mind still reeling from a dream, a memory, taking in Shiro’s arms and chest and smile and laugh, and he’d feel that all too familiar ache in his chest, reminding him he was gone.  Keith would fight it; tell himself this was the dream, and soon he’d wake up back in Shiro’s arms and cry into his shoulder and beg him never to leave him.  Shiro would kiss his hair and his cheek and then his hands would move down to where Keith needed them to be.

He’d get angry and upset and throw tantrums like a child when his friends called to ‘check up on him’ with the self-pitying ‘Hey, how ya doin’, bud?’ that came with each ring of the phone.  Eventually, Keith stopped answering.

\---

**Then**

They met in a club.

How could they meet anywhere else?  That’s just where Keith always happened to be.

Shiro was all thick muscles, suave nature, sparkling eyes.  Keith had his eyes set on him from across the dance floor. 

It was his smile that did it though. 

Keith strolled up to Shiro like he owned the floor, and Shiro turned to him, smiling with his eyes, showing a row of perfect teeth.  Keith felt his knees go weak and his heart jackhammering in his chest.  Keith didn’t know his name, not at the beginning, but also didn’t care. 

They ended up in Keith’s ratty apartment; one that he paid two hundred dollars under the asking price because his landlord had a soft spot for boys like him, hoped he’d build up enough of a tab for Keith to bend over one day. 

 _Over my dead body._ Keith would tell himself.

But Shiro.  Shiro could have him in any way he wanted.  Which is what he said the moment the door was shut behind them and Keith was backing them toward the bed.

“Like this,” he said, slamming Keith into the mattress and towering over him, grinning at him like he was a piece of meat.  Keith moaned, their lips locked, and Keith fell apart under Shiro for the first time.

And that’s how they met.

\---

**Now**

Keith found his own consolation at the bottom of the bottle, on the floor at clubs and most commonly in the beds of other men.  At first he was picky.  Just like he had been before he met Shiro.

That had been the amazing thing about Shiro; he had ticked all of his boxes at once, rendering Keith catatonic for the man.  It was just his luck Shiro felt the same about him. 

Then, he suddenly found it didn’t matter who the guys was, what he did, what his build was like, how his voice sounded.  If he was into choking Keith or not, if he liked being called Daddy in bed, if he chose to spank Keith or be spanked by Keith; it didn’t fucking matter.  They all felt the same.  So Keith fell into bed with everyone.

He ran out of money, refusing to collect the inheritance left by his fiancé, yet he never needed to pick himself up and go through the gruelling task of looking for a job that would barely cover his basic needs when all he had to do was walk across the hall to his landlord and get on his knees.  He didn’t need to pay his bills when the guy upstairs needed knew material for his porn blog and paid handsomely to use Keith as his main muse.  He started giving it up for less and less.  Hell, he even let some guy finger him for a cup of black coffee.

It was all the same.

Keith had stopped feeling.

He liked it that way.

\---

**Then**

It was weeks later when one of Keith’s supposed friends came barging in uninvited.  It was the middle of the afternoon when Keith was roused from a very good sleep by the yelling and scolding and name calling.  Keith groaned, flipped him off over his shoulder, and rolled over, pulling the sheet up over his torso. 

 He regretted ever giving him a spare key.

“Keith!  Your boss called me.  How were you fired?  Again!?”

Keith pondered his words.  Oh yeah.  His job.  Woops.

He shrugged.

“Didn’t show up,” was all he said.

“Keith!” his friend said, in that tone of voice that was sure to mean a lecture was about to follow.  Keith rolled his eyes and buried himself under the covers.  He was too tired for this.  He had been up all night, and not in the good way, running all over town with Shiro.  Running ‘errands’ and ‘collecting compensation’.  It was fun; it just left him bone-dead exhausted.

He supposed he should’ve been angry when Shiro had finally told him his profession; but to be honest, ‘leader of a highly-respected drug cartel’ sounded so much sexier than ‘real estate broker’.  And Shiro sold good shit too.  He didn’t take it himself, so Keith tried not to either, but the one time he had it had given him a high so pure he was pretty sure he was still on it. 

How else do you explain how he was suddenly so happy all the time? So giddy?  So ready to jump out of bed in the morning, so long as it meant he could follow Shiro out the door.

He listened only marginally to the angry voice telling him he ‘needed to get his shit together’ and ‘become a better member of society’ if he ever felt like ‘making something of himself’.  Keith mouthed the words along with him under the covers.

“Why do you care?!” Keith managed to ground out, eventually showing himself again.

Fuck, his ass was sore. 

“I’m your brother, Keith!  I have to care!”

“Step-brother!  You’re not required by the laws of biology to take care of me!”

It was then that the shower, which had been running in the background, stopped, taking his friend’s attention off of him and toward the bathroom door.   Shiro stepped out, a towel around his waist and water dripping from his hair.

Keith wanted to chase the droplets down his chest with his tongue.

“Who the fuck is this?” his friend glared.

“Shiro,” Keith answered.  He knew another lecture was coming.  One about safe sex and one-night stands and something about setting Keith up with someone more respectable, if he was really that lonely.  Like Keith would ever be caught dead with one of the suits his ‘brother’ kissed ass with all day.

Shiro, ever the gentleman, walked up, towering over Keith’s step-brother small frame, offering a hand.

“Takashi Shirogane,” he said, smile in place.

Except it was his power smile.  The one that said ‘don’t fuck with me’.  Keith had only seen him use it a few times before, and usually directed at people overcharging them for drinks, or weed.  It was smug and arrogant and made you instantly feel like Shiro owned your life.  He had never used it on Keith, but what Keith wouldn’t have given Shiro was a very small list.

“Shiro’s my…” Keith paused.  They hadn’t had that talk yet, and Keith hadn’t been prepared to jinx this by bringing it up.

“Boyfriend.”

Keith startled at Shiro’s word.

Keith’s step-brother looked to him for confirmation.  Keith just gave him a shit-eating grin.

His step-brother left moments after; one more threat directed at Keith to get a stable job ‘or else’.  Or else was never specified and never followed through on.  It was an empty threat if ever there was one.  Keith laughed as he slammed the front door shut.

“Thanks for that,” Keith said, nuzzling into Shiro’s neck, his chest pressed to his firm back.  Shiro smelt so clean, all the time, even after days of never leaving the bed or coming home from the gym.  Keith felt the thrum of desire making its way through his blood stream again.

Shiro chuckled in response, finished pulling on clean pants and turned to grip Keith’s face in a large palm, bringing their lips together.

Silence followed, only interrupted by the wet sounds of lips smacking together, slow and heated.

“Did you mean it?” Keith asked, afraid, hands shaking around Shiro’s neck.

“Did you want me to?”

Keith thought about it, hair a curtain between them as he looked into his lap.  Shiro brushed the strands out of his face.

“Kind of.”

“Then I meant it.”

And that’s how they started officially dating.

\---

**Now**

“Keith!  Get up!”

Sunlight streamed in through his bedroom window, jolting Keith from his dead sleep.  He sat up, groaning, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. 

So, he did feel something.  He felt hangovers.

“Fuck off!” Keith mumbled, turning over and pressing his face into his sweat stained pillow, intent on going back to sleep.

The guy from last night had already left, thank God.  He didn’t feel like dealing with his step brother’s judging stares this early in the morning.

“You need to get up!” He was saying, screaming, yanking the covers off.  Keith didn’t even flinch.  “You’ve been locked up in this apartment for weeks, doing God knows what!  You didn’t even show up to Mark’s birthday barbeque last weekend!  You-“

Keith tuned it out.  He was good at that.

Honestly, he had been planning to go to his friend’s party, had been on the train to the suburbs, but some guy dropped his wallet and when Keith picked it up for him, he gave Keith a look up and down that Keith knew would sate his hunger for his own self-loathing.  The guy was old and bald and probably paid through the nose to fuck boys like Keith. 

It was just his lucky day Keith was offering discounts of up to 100% off.

He had wandered home after.  Not having it in him to face his friends when he smelt, and felt, like filth and public bathrooms.

“Keith!”

And then his step-brother dumped a glass of water on his head.

Keith wretched up, gasping, shoving his hair out of his face.

“What the fuck!?” he was livid, prepared to leap across the room and fight him.

“You weren’t listening to a word I was saying!  Were you?!” his friend was still screaming at him, nagging him.  Keith wanted to punch him.

Not because of the nagging though, no.  But because he was absolutely right.  Keith knew he needed to change, needed to get better, needed to get some fucking help.  But he was sad and upset and angry and alone and the thought of feeling any different scared him.  He hadn’t been very good at feeling good before Shiro; he certainly wouldn’t be very good at it after him.

“What the hell!  Didn’t mean you had to ruin my fucking mattress!”

More screaming.  More shouting.  Keith was exhausted of it all.  He ended up storming out.  Pulling on a tank top and yesterday’s jeans, his combat boots in his hand as he fled down the stairs of his apartment complex. 

 _Fuck them,_ Keith thought, like a mantra, as his feet pounded the pavement.  _Fuck them all to hell.  What do they know?_

\---

**Then**

It was New Year’s day.  They were both a mess.  Lying on Keith’s mattress, bodies pressed so tightly together, panting and sweating as they came down from their orgasms.  Keith had tears in his eyes.  A grin on his face.  Shiro’s arms were wrapped so solidly around his waist he was surprised he could still breathe.  Not like Shiro hadn’t already attempted to suck the air form his lungs.

“Happy New Year, Babydoll,” Shiro exhaled, breath warm and moist on the back of Keith’s neck.  Keith coughed.  A laugh.

“And what a grand New Year it’s been.”  They both laughed.

They lay there, breathing slowing, when a heavy knock sounded on the door.  Keith glared at it from across the one room that made up his apartment, wondering who on God’s-green-earth would dare to interrupt this perfect bubble they had put themselves in.  Then it occurred to him exactly who it was.

“Fuck, it’s January.”

Shiro laughed again behind him, Keith could still feel him in his ass.

“A good observation there, sweetheart.”

Keith attempted to bury himself further into the sheets.

“No, I mean it’s a new month.  My landlord wants rent.  Fuck.”

Shiro kissed his sweaty locks.

“Pretend we’re not home,” he murmured, probably intent on going back to sleep. 

“After the noise we were just making?” Keith asked, astonished Shiro could even suggest such a thing.

Shiro laughed, heaving himself up with a grunt and getting out of bed.

Keith watched, curious, as he pulled on a pair of boxers.  Keith’s boxers.  Which stretched too tight across his perfect ass.  Watched him walk to the door and fish out something from where his jeans lay on the moth-eaten sofa.

Shiro wrote something down and then opened the door when the knock came again.

“Here’s three thousand dollars,” was all Shiro said, handing his landlord what Keith presumed was a cheque.  “Rent in advance for the next six months.  Please don’t call again.  I’ll make another payment when it’s time.”

Shiro shut the door in the man’s face.

Keith proceeded to piss himself laughing, unbelieving to what he just witnessed.

It’s not that Shiro didn’t doll money out for him; he offered.  Constantly.  But Keith had never felt right taking him up on his offer.  He had never meant for Shiro to be his sugar daddy.  Yet the idea of Shiro so blatantly making a three grand cheque out to a guy who knew he didn’t have any money to spare was, somehow, incredibly funny to Keith.

Shiro returned to the bed, looming over Keith as he laughed himself hoarse.

“What the hell?” he cackled.  He didn’t even know why he found it so funny.  Just that he was so unbelievably happy.

Shiro settled on top of him, effectively cutting Keith’s breath short.  He was naked again, their hips meeting, mixing slick they hadn’t cleaned up before.

“Fat bastard was probably just jealous,” Shiro said, lips finding Keith’s pulse point.  Keith angled his head, exposing his neck for Shiro to have easy access to.

“Of you or of me?” Keith asked, legs spreading wide and hooking around Shiro’s waist, locking him in place.

“Of me, ‘course,” Shiro answered, kissing down Keith’s neck to his shoulder, to his clavicle, biting the skin over his heart.  He came back up to cup Keith’s face in his palms, grey eyes looking into deep blue.  “Who wouldn’t want a beautiful, sexy, smart, funny man with gorgeous, black hair and eyes such a deep violet you could drown in them?” Shiro kissed his cheek, his eyelids, pausing over his lips so they brushed when he spoke.  “Who wouldn’t want to be in love with that.”

Keith felt his heart stop. 

He swallowed.

“I love you, too.”

Shiro planted their lips together, gripping Keith to him and never letting go.

And that’s how they admitted their love for one another.

\---

**Now**

What _did_ they know?  None of them had been as close to Shiro as he had been, none of them had lost a best friend, a lover, a future husband.  None of them had given him the best years of his life as he fell head over heels in love with a man who was nothing but good for him and, by some miracle, wanted Keith all to himself.

Keith hadn’t been nearly as much of a mess before, just a little off-track.  Shiro walked into his life and seemed to pick him up by the scruff of his neck, plunking him back down on the path and pushing him forward, a constant presence behind him.

Maybe drug dealing hadn’t exactly been a respectable job in the eyes of society, but he had made good money and it meant he was at least doing _something,_ even if it was slightly illegal. 

Keith knew it was the praise though.  The ‘good boy’ and the ‘nice job’ and the ‘you did so well’ that came after every successful job.  The words that fell from Shiro’s lips were like Keith’s own drug, and Shiro was the only dealer he ever wanted to buy from.

 _“I’m here, babydoll,”_ he’d say, right into Keith’s ear, as they made love in bed, on the kitchen counter, on the living room rug.  Anywhere Shiro wanted him, Keith eagerly spread his legs and let Shiro have him.  Use him.  Burn him alive from the inside out.  _“I’m right here.”_

Keith sniffed, rubbing at his now stinging eyes.

“No, you’re not.”

\---

**Then**

Keith came home a year later, ragged and tired and smelling like fast food and processed meat.  He immediately pulled off his KFC uniform and threw it into the corner to be forgotten.  Shiro was on his couch, pen in hand as he scribbled numbers into a leather-bound book.  He looked up, saw Keith’s exhausted expression and offered him a consoling smile.

“Hey, gorgeous,” his voice was full of the longing and wishful thinking Keith himself had been experiencing all day. 

“Don’t joke,” Keith bit, in a bad mood and ready to fight anyone and everyone.  “I’m disgusting.”

He just meant now, not in general.

“I wasn’t,” Shiro told him, dead serious, voice still soft.

Keith wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch next to his lover, have dinner and fall asleep early on Shiro’s chest while they watched crappy horror movies on Netflix.  But first, he needed a shower.

“You can quit anytime,” Shiro called to him as he exited the bathroom twenty minutes later.  “You make more than enough working for me.”

“And have my dickhead step-brother breathing down my neck about how I’m still alive without a job?  No, thank you.”  The only good thing that came out of his trashy, minimum wage paying bullshit was that his ‘family’ finally left him alone.  They didn’t question that he only had one shift a week, just that they didn’t get calls anymore to tell them Keith had fucked up again.

It was an evil necessity he endured for the sake of privacy.

Keith grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge and plonked himself down next to Shiro so their bodies sunk into the battered couch together. 

“Here,” Keith handed one to him and watched Shiro crack it open, using edge of the ring on his middle finger as a bottle opener.  Keith stared in wonderment.  It was still one of Keith’s biggest turn ons, and had been since that first night Shiro had opened a beer for him.  If he didn’t have that drop-dead gorgeous smile, that would’ve sealed the deal just fine.

“Okay, you have got to teach me how to do that,” Keith demanded.  Shiro looked up, smiling, soft and serene.  He closed his book and put it on the coffee table, getting up.

“Alright.  Let me go get you a ring.”

Keith didn’t think anything of it, just waited for Shiro to return. 

When he did, he knelt on the floor, pushing Keith’s crouched legs aside as he looked up at his boyfriend.

“You’re gonna teach me from the floor?” Keith asked.

Then Shiro opened the little black box he had brought with him, and Keith’s brain came to a screeching halt.

It was a simple ring.  Nothing more than a band with a little, black stone nestled into the top.  Except it shone out of its velvet pouch like the sun on a hot summer’s day. 

“It’s made from meteorite,” Shiro explained.  “And I requested white gold because I know that’s your favourite.”

Keith looked him in the eyes.

“You had a ring made for me?” Keith’s voice was already thick with tears.

“I’d have a planet made for you, if I could.  If it were at all possible.”

Keith sniffled.

He was such a sap.  Shiro had turned him into a sap.  The asshole.

“As it were, I can only do so much, but if you say yes I’ll make sure it’s more than enough every day for the rest of your goddamn life.”

Keith let the tears fall as he cradled Shiro’s head in his hands and kissed any part of him his twisted body could reach.  The ring slid onto his finger without a fight, and Shiro made love to him on Keith’s couch, books and dinner and Netflix forgotten.

And that’s how they got engaged.

\---

Keith woke up the next day to the image of Shiro in a suit.  Black and crisp and hugging his shoulders ever so beautifully.  Keith was jealous. 

Shiro only ever dressed in suits when he was meeting with his superiors; the few men that worked above him.  He finished buttoning his jacket, noticed Keith was awake, and knelt onto the mattress to greet him good morning.  Keith arched his back enticingly, hoping if he pleaded with his eyes enough Shiro would forget the meeting and stay.

“I’ll only be an hour or so,” Shiro said, kissing Keith’s lips, their breaths mingling.  Keith whimpered.

“That’s still an hour too long,” he whined, pouting up at his fiancé.  Keith couldn’t get over that word.  It was still spinning in his head, right behind ‘engaged’ and ‘soon-to-be-married’. 

“I know, Babydoll,” Shiro breathed into his neck.  His hand reached down to glide down Keith’s naked thigh, then back up again.  Keith shivered.  “But go back to sleep and I’ll be home before you know it.”

Keith nodded, slotting their lips together again, and then nestling back into the pillows. 

“Chinese for dinner?” Shiro asked, standing up, wrestling out any wrinkles in his pants. 

“Please,” Keith answered.  Shiro nodded, gave him one last smile, and walked out the door. 

And that was the last time Keith saw him.

\---

**Now**

Friday nights were good. 

Friday nights were full of the guys who were too eager to have a good time to realise how much of a shit Keith actually was.  All they saw was a thin waist, pretty eyes and an easy lay.  Fine by him.  It made his job easier.

“You’re hot,” some frat boy, here for a bachelor party, slurred into his ear.

_Shiro would call him beautiful._

“Bet you’re kinky as fuck too.”

_Shiro would ask him what he liked, what safe words he used, what hand signals he wanted.  Then never give Keith a reason to use them._

“Guys like you always like it rough.”

_Shiro was so gentle it physically hurt and that’s how he was ever rough in bed._

Keith took a long swig of his beer.  It tasted like piss. 

“Whatever,” Keith muttered, over it all already.  “Are we doing this or not?”

“Hey, woa, cool your jets, man!” this guy was obnoxious, arrogant, thought the world owed him something.  Keith wanted to hit him.  “We’ve got time.  Let’s get to know each other.”

“Can we do that while fucking in the men’s room?”

“Wow, you’re bad this talking thing.”

“And you’re bad at this fucking thing.”

Keith left.

He’d find someone who wasn’t as chatty; who didn’t feel the need to pretend like this was a date, like he needed manners.

Keith was back at the bar, ordering another drink, and mulling over his prospects when someone tapped him on the shoulder.  He turned to see a guy, tall and slender, in clean jeans and a crisp shirt, the top buttons undone.  He had tanned skin, bright blue eyes.  He had an okay smile.

_Good enough._

“Want to go home together?” Keith asked, outright.  To his surprise, the guy laughed.

“Sorry, man, as tempting as the offer is, my girlfriend would kill me.”

Keith got close, put his palm on the guy’s jaw, brushed his fingers carefully over bronze skin, kept his eyelids low and his voice lower.

“She doesn’t have to know,” Keith murmured against his lips. 

The guy didn’t even flinch, just grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back, holding him at arm’s length.

“Again, I’m taken.  Happily so.”

Keith glared, angry.  Why was this guy wasting his time?

“But I’ve been asked to come and get you.”

Keith groaned.  His fucking friends sure didn’t know when to quit.

“Whatever they paid you, I’ll pay you double to leave me the fuck alone.”

That was a lie.  He had no money.  But he had drugs.  A good amount of heroin stored under his toilet basin that he had saved up for the nights he came home alone; and sometimes with the more adventurous types.

“Doubt it,” was all the guy said, before grabbing his arm and dragging him through the club.  Keith didn’t have the energy to fight him.

The guy dragged him out the back door into the alley, Keith stumbling tiredly behind him.  Keith begrudgingly followed him to the end, where a black van was parked with the doors open.  A woman with white hair and bright blue eyes was talking on her phone as they approached.  She had a thick British accent.

“Please, Black, we have this, you don’t need to worry.  Yes, yes, we’ll take good care of him.  Please, put your mind at ease, you trust us, remember?  Oh!  Here he comes now!”

She turned as they approached, sidling right up to the guy that still had his hand firmly grasped on Keith’s upper arm. 

“Hello, darling!” she greeted, pressing their lips together before turning back to her conversation.  “We have him in our care, Black, we’ll be at yours by the afternoon.  Okay.  I will.  Good-bye now!”

She hung up.

It was starting to occur to Keith in the back of his mind that he should, perhaps, be slightly worried.

“Ready to go?” she was asking him now.  Keith looked at her like she had grown three extra heads.

“Go where?”

“Well, we can’t tell you that.  But it’ll all become clear once we arrive.”

Keith scoffed.

“Okay, I’m dead inside but I still have enough sense not to climb into the back of a van with complete strangers.”

“Well, I’m Blue,” the guy, Blue, was saying.  “This perfect lady, and the light of my life here is Pink.”

Keith’s eyes darted back and forth between them.

“Am I being arrested?”

If so, these were the weirdest fucking cops Keith had ever seen.

The British lady laughed.

“Oh, dear, no!  Quite the opposite!  But again, we can’t really divulge the details of this expedition until later.  Please, if you get in the van, you’ll be well taken care of.”

Suddenly, a head popped up over the driver’s seat, a wild mess of hair and huge round glasses on her young face.

“Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Blue laughed.

“That’s Green,” Blue explained.  “And the big guy in the passenger seat is Yellow.  See?  No longer strangers.”

Yellow waved at him, his smile bright and cheerful.

Keith was so confused.  Who were these people?  Why did they all call themselves colours?  Why were they talking to him like they knew him?  Like they were long-lost friends, simply swinging through town and decided to pick Keith up for a quick beach trip.

“I’m still not getting in that van.”

Blue sighed, running his hands through his hair.

“Man, if you were anyone else, I would’ve taser-ed your ass by now.  As it were, Black gave us specific instructions.  We’re literally not allowed to lay a hand on you unless it means saving you from death.  As it is, you’re not dying.  So, I’m not allowed to knock you out, even though I wish I could.  So, I’m gonna ask you again; get in the van.”

Keith looked at Blue, at his angry eyes, then back at the other inhabitants of this odd group of people.

As it were, dying in some strange way these people probably had planned wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him, obviously, and it’s not like he had been having a particularly good night here anyway.

“Fine.” Keith wrenched his arm out of Blue’s hold, walked past Pink and climbed into the back seat of the van.  Green wooped and turned back to the steering wheel.  Keith was about to question whether she was even old enough to drive; then decided he didn’t care.

Blue held Pink’s hand as she climbed in to sit next to Keith, and then pulled the doors shut once he was inside himself.  He took the side facing seat on the adjacent wall, buckled himself in and gave Green the go ahead.

\---

The ended up on a tarmac, a huge plane waiting for them at the end of a red carpet.  Keith found himself actually curious.

“You still can’t tell me where we’re going, can you?” Keith asked as he followed Blue out of the van. 

“Nope.  Just know it’s not on this continent.”

Keith looked to the plane. 

“Cool.” Was all he said.

The plane was one of those fancy private jets.  It had a posh leather interior and a man with a thick moustache was waiting inside to greet him, offering him a glass of champagne.  Keith took it, and downed it in one go.

“Hello, my boy!  Good to meet you!  I’m Coran!”

Keith blinked.

“You don’t get a colour?”

Coran laughed. 

“Coran runs the operations close enough to base that he doesn’t need one,” Pink was saying, walking up the steps into the plane.  Blue had a hand on her waist as he climbed up behind her, apparently scared she’d trip and fall in her heels.

Yellow and Green followed promptly.  Yellow sealed the door to the aircraft.

“When you’re ready, Blue.”

Blue nodded, moving into the cockpit. 

“You’re a pilot?” Keith asked after him.  Keith could see him settling at the controls, putting the headset over his ear.

“Nah, I just sit in here and press buttons and hope everything goes okay.”

Keith actually let out a small laugh at that.

He sat down in the leather chair across from Pink, who was tapping away on a tablet, her face scrunched in concentration.

“Black wants an update again.  Honestly, you’d think we’d never taken a hostage for him before!”

“I’m a hostage?” Keith raised a brow, helping himself to the second champagne flute Coran set in front of him.  Well, if you were going to take someone hostage, this was definitely the way to do it.

The plane began to move.

“No, of course not, my apologies,” Pink was saying, sighing and putting down the tablet.  “Poor choice of words.”

Keith considered this.

“What does Black want with me?  Why am I so important?  Why aren’t you allowed to hurt me?”

Pink had settled back in her own chair, picking up the other champagne flute and sipping at it.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

Keith shrugged.

“No?”

Pink giggled.

“I promise once we get there, it will become glaringly obvious.  We’ve been waiting for you for a while, Keith.”

This surprised him.

“Waiting?  Waiting for what?”

Pink only offered him a smile.

“Good evening passengers, this is your pilot speaking,” Blue’s voice came over the intercom.  “We’re expecting a smooth flight from the Orlando International Airport to…you know where-“

Keith rolled his eyes.

“Our flight time currently rests at approximately seventeen hours.  So buckle in and I hope you enjoy my flying; especially you, pretty lady, with the sparkling eyes.  I’m jealous of whoever gets to see your beautiful face in the mornings.”

“Thanks, Blue!” Green called sarcastically from her seat.

Pink laughed.

Keith smiled with them.

\---

The flight was indeed a smooth ride, Keith drinking himself to sleep for more than half of it.  They landed without any discrepancies.

Blue exited the cockpit shortly after stalling the aircraft, immediately making a beeline for Pink.

“How was your flight?” he asked, taking her in his arms and kissing her cheek.  She leant heavily into him.

“Black kept me awake the whole time.  I should’ve just set up a live feed; that would’ve been far easier.”

Keith tuned the rest of it out.  Their happiness was making him nauseous.

Instead he followed Green and Yellow down the stairs onto the tarmac, following the carpet to the waiting limo.  A man in a suit and sunglasses opened the door for him.

“Nice service,” Keith muttered, settling into his seat and looking over the features.  More champagne was offered, but Keith found himself turning it down. 

“Mind if I smoke in here?” Keith asked Pink as she slid in beside him.  Blue shut the door and tapped the roof, the limo beginning to move. 

Pink looked incredulously at the cigarettes.

“I’m not allowed to say no.”

Which meant she wanted to.

Keith heaved a sigh and slipped them back into his pocket.  The ride was filled with silence.

“Blue used to smoke,” she told him.  “I couldn’t stand the smell, or the taste.”

Keith considered this.

“Bet he quit cold turkey the moment you asked.”

Pink looked at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“Yes.  He did.”

Keith nodded.

He had done the same thing when Shiro had asked the same of him.

\---

Keith fell asleep again in the car, and woke up to Pink shaking him gently.

“We’re here!” she announced.

Keith looked out the window. 

A giant mansion greeted his sights.  Huge turrets of marble framing the doorway, which was made of a deep wood that probably cost more than all of Keith’s possessions combined.   Keith exited the car, looking around the grounds.  Hedges had been clipped into the shape of proud, roaring lions.  The driveway was immaculate, black brick with white grout framing the different stones.  The fountain in the middle spurted clear water reflecting the rays of the sun that hung low in the sky.

“Where the ever loving fuck am I?” Keith murmured.

“Keith!” Pink called him.  He spun around, back to facing the door.  Blue was already holding the door open, having followed them in a separate car.  “This way, please.  Black is eager to see you.”

Keith climbed the marble steps and entered into a huge foyer.  Pink didn’t hesitate though, continuing up the carpeted staircase.  Keith hurried to follow.  He was glad he was following her too, because as they rounded a few more corners, he was certain he would’ve gotten lost.  She finally stopped at a set of double doors at the end of the hall.

She waited for him to catch up, before knocking.

“Yes?” A deep voice sounded on the other side.

Keith felt his entire body go numb.

He recognised that voice.  How could he not?  It was burnt, etched, branded into his brain.  It filled his thoughts during the day and flooded his dreams at night.  It was the source of all of his happiest memories, darkest desires and wildest dreams.  It was the only thing Keith had clung onto with a vice like grip, having regrettably forgotten so many details of his lover in the haze of booze and drugs and sex.

“He’s here, Sir.” Pink said, no nonsense in her voice now.

There was a pause.

“Come in.”

Keith wished he could swallow his tongue, if only to have something to swallow at all.  His mouth had gone completely dry.

Pink pushed the door open, ushering Keith inside first.

Keith stepped through carefully, his entire nervous system on edge. 

“The trip went uneventful, Sir.  Though initially he did seem to be hesitant to follow us, Blue managed to convince him-“

The world fell away.

Keith watched him behind a large, mahogany desk, papers stacked immaculately and computer monitor displaying a photo Keith recognised instantly, even from a distance.  A photo from their trip to Morocco weeks before Shiro’s, apparent, death.  He watched him set down his pen, push himself up from his chair, button his suit jacket and walk around the piece of furniture.  Keith watched him settle on the other side of the desk, taking in Pink’s words, but only distantly.

Keith watched Shiro watch him.

“-and the car service was quick and efficient as always.  Nothing else to report.”

Shiro’s eyes never left Keiths.

“Thank you, Allura.  Leave us, now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

There was the sound of a door shutting behind him, sealing them in.

Then a heavy silence followed.

“Hello, Keith,” Shiro said, if only to break it.

Keith couldn’t speak.  Didn’t know how.  Wouldn’t even know what to say.

“I’m sorry for all the secrecy; tonight and over the past year.  It’s been hell trying to convince my superiors to let me go back for you, and even than I could only manage a recon mission at most, or I would have come to collect you personally.  I didn’t like sending people you didn’t know; but they were also the only ones I trusted with the job.”

Keith continued to remain silent.

“Are you thirsty?” Shiro motioned to a cart beside his desk, topped with every drink Keith could ever think to think of.  Alcoholic or otherwise.

Keith opened his mouth, gasped like a fish, then shut it again.

“I’ll get you some water.” Shiro turned to the cart.  It was only when Shiro broke eye contact did Keith’s mind race into a frenzy of thoughts and conclusions he could barely decipher.

“You’re dead.”

Shiro turned away from the cart, bottle of sparkling water in hand.

“You’re dead.  You’re dead.  They told me you were dead.”

Shiro finished filling the glass, and walked it over to Keith.  Keith flinched away at his close proximity.

Keith could tell Shiro was trying to act like that didn’t hurt.

“I hate to be cliché,” Shiro wore a smile, the same smile that had Keith on his knees by the end of their very first date, “but the rumours of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

“Yeah, no shit!” Was what Keith so eloquently replied with.

“I’m so sorry, Keith.” And he definitely sounded it.  “I hated abandoning you like I did.  I hated myself for it; I still do.  I was prepared to fight for the right to take you with me but they had other, much more gruesome solutions to getting me to comply.  I didn’t think it would take me so long to retrieve you.  I don’t even want to think how you suffered.”

Keith’s head was reeling.

If he was jacked up on some new drug on his bathroom floor and he woke up in the morning and all this was a dream, he was definitely flinging himself off a building.  Because all this was too fucked even for his own mind to dream up.

As it were, whether this was real or fantasy, whether Shiro was a livid hallucination or standing right in front of him, Keith was tired of wasting time.

He flung himself at Shiro, wrapped his arms around his chest and felt the first sobs climb up his throat into Shiro’s shirt.  There was the tell-tale sound of glass breaking and strong arms wrapping around his lithe form, pulling him so impossibly tight to the large body he had missed so much.  Keith broke.  Let his entire weight fall into Shiro’s arms and sobbed into his chest.  Shiro gripped him, one firm arm around his waist, his bionic one pressed into his back. 

Keith felt Shiro bury his nose into his hair, kissing his locks and whispering to him.  He was so close, and yet not close enough.  Never would be again.

“I missed you!” Keith cried, not daring to break away from Shiro’s hold even to look at his face.  “I missed you so fucking much!”

“Fuck, I missed you too, babydoll,” Shiro shifted, his hands gripping Keith’s hips and hoisting him up.  Keith’s feet left the ground and he wrapped his legs around Shiro’s waist all on pure instinct.  His body responded like a dog told to sit.  He pressed their foreheads together, tears streaming down both their faces.

“Don’t ever fucking do that again!” Keith cried, angry, heart beating in his chest so loud he was surprised it hadn’t crawled out of his chest.

“Never.” Shiro promised, holding him so tight Keith was afraid his ribs would break.  Fine by him.  He had felt worse.

\---

The only other words exchanged between gasping kisses and heady touchers were “Wheres the bedroom?” to which Shiro replied “Down the hall.”

Shiro didn’t put him down though, didn’t dare to let go as he threw his office doors open and marched down the hallway with Keith in his arms.  Keith rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder, like a child being coddled after a long day’s walk.  He pressed his face into Shiro’s neck and breathed in.

He smelt the same.  He smelt the exact same. 

Another set of doors opened and Shiro kicked them shut with a bang, which probably announced to the whole house what they were doing.  Keith could care less, would happily scream it from the rooftop.

Shiro placed him so carefully, like a China doll, onto the bedspread, a blood red colour.  Keith didn’t let him go far, grabbing his tie and pulling it so their lips met again in a searing kiss.  Keith blanched, his body acting on its own as he spread his legs and let Shiro in between them.  His grip moved to Shiro’s hair, nails raking through the grain on the back of his head, gasping against his lips as their tongues lolled together.  There was spit everywhere.  Keith was fucking ecstatic. 

“Fuck, it’s been so long,” Shiro murmured, mouth moving to Keith’s neck, hot and wet against his pulse.  “Too long without you.  Without _this.”_

A stark realisation came to Keith and he suddenly found himself drowning in guilt.

Fuck.

He had practically cheated on Shiro.

He had fucked his way through the city while Shiro had been waiting for him.

Why hadn’t he done the same?  Of course, Shiro wasn’t dead.  He was alive and had been coming for Keith the whole time.  That’s why he had never been able to get over him.  Why he had felt nothing all year.  Why none of it had ever mattered. 

Pink had been right; everything was so glaringly obvious now.

“Shiro,” Keith whimpered, tears pricking the back of his eyes.  Fuck.  He just got Shiro back and now he’d ruin everything.

Briefly, Keith considered not telling him.  But as Shiro kissed down his neck to his clavicle, licking at it and moaning his name in return, Keith knew he’d never be able to enjoy this ever again if he didn’t come clean.

“Shiro, stop,” Keith pleaded.  Shiro immediately backed off.  He had always been good like that.  Shiro always listened to Keith and followed his words to the letter.  It’s partly what had made him such a great lover.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Shiro’s eyes were full of concern, his hair a mess and his lips kiss-swollen.  Fuck, he looked hot. 

Keith wanted to tell him nothing.  To go back to what they were doing.  To let Shiro ruin him again and again.

“I-“ Keith blinked back tears, gaping around his words, trying his best to word this in a way that wouldn’t make him seem like a gigantic jackass.  Except he was.  And they would.  No matter what.

“Baby,” Shiro held him, shushed him, kissed his tears away and stroked his hair.  “I know.  I know.  It’s all too much.  We don’t have to do this tonight.”

This only made Keith cry harder.  Why did Shiro have to be so understanding?  Why couldn’t he be an asshole like the myriad of other guys Keith had gone to bed with? 

Because otherwise Keith wouldn’t be here, that’s why.

“I’m so sorry,” Keith gasped, burying his shame into Shiro’s neck.

“No, baby, don’t be,” Shiro was saying, gripping Keith in his arms.  “You never have to be sorry for saying no.”

“It’s not that,” Keith managed to get out in between sobs.  “It’s that…I…I did something horrible.  While you were gone.  I did something really, fucking horrible.”

Keith had never admitted it, to himself or to anyone, that him acting like a complete slut as a way to deal with his grief was in anyway bad.  He didn’t have the patience to deal with the self-discovery, going with the always ready solution that if he didn’t think about, he didn’t have to deal with the guilt that was sure to swallow him.

“Baby, whatever it was, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Shiro’s lips were on his forehead.  Keith took a deep breath.

“I slept with someone,” Keith managed to get out.  To his utter amazement, Shiro’s petting didn’t cease.  The gentle fingers on his cheek didn’t slow as they brushed his skin.  The hand on his hip didn’t stop massaging circles into his shirt.  “I slept with a lot of someones.  I drank and I did drugs and I…I fucked a lot of guys.  I couldn’t feel after you…I didn’t know how to feel.”

Shiro took his face between his hands, drawing back so he could look Keith in the eyes.

“I whored myself out for petty things.  I couldn’t function, didn’t try.  So, I just did whatever my body told me to do to feel less like shit.  Nothing worked.  Nothing made it go away.” Keith was sobbing again, clutching at Shiro’s shoulders, desperately holding onto him for the small amount of time he had left.

Shiro smiled at him.  Honest to God, smiled that heart melting smile that made Keith’s breath hitch.

“Is that all?’  Keith was speechless.  “Keith, you thought I was dead.  I half-expected them to find you overdosed in the bathtub when I was finally able to send for you.  It’s why I couldn’t stand leaving you for so long; I wasn’t sure how much time I had before something horrible happened.”

He brushed Keith’s hair out of his eyes, holding him tight.  Keith was going to faint.  From relief.  From exhilaration.  From the thrumming of overwhelming emotions flooding his system.

“You’re not mad?” Keith asked, breathless.

“Baby, no,” Shiro hushed.  “You did what you needed to do in order to survive.  I’m just so glad you’re alive.  That you weren’t in some drug-induced stupor.”

Keith felt the tears fall again.  He pressed his face into Shiro’s chest.  Keith clung to his shirt so hard it wrinkled under his fists. 

Shiro took his left hand, kissing the knuckles one by one, stopping over his ring finger.

“You kept it.” It wasn’t a question.

Keith looked up, noticed Shiro staring at the little black rock still on his finger.

“I never took it off,” Keith murmured.

Shiro held up his own left hand, showing his matching ring, the cloudy, red stone barely catching the light.

“Neither did I.”

Keith didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  His emotions were a jumble inside his heart and his head.  Instead, he kissed Shiro on the mouth, worming his way in and letting Shiro suck on his tongue.  He canted his hips, eager for all and any kind of contact.  Shiro moaned, fisting Keith’s hair, laid him down and pressed him back into the covers.

They were naked in a matter of minutes.

Keith raked his fingernails down Shiro’s chest, feeling over the swell of abbs and watched his stomach twitch.  Shiro watched him, his grey eyes studying his lithe form.  Keith knew he was a mess.  He had lost a lot of weight.  His skin was pale and his eyes had sunk into his head, his cheekbones prominent under his mess of hair.  He couldn’t bring himself to feel bad though.

Maybe that’s why Shiro had always been his greatest addiction, his only vice.  Shiro had a way of making him feel good about himself.  It wasn’t the sex or the money or even his always honest words.  It’s just how Shiro was.  Keith hadn’t realised how much he had taken that for granted until he was gone.

“Keith,” Shiro’s voice was a whisper, bending down so he could kiss the skin over his heart.  Keith whined.  “Keith, love.”  Shiro continued to kiss the skin there, and Keith felt himself swell inside.  Felt his dick twitch, eager and so ready, already dripping wet.  It probably remembered Shiro just as hard as Keith did. 

“Shiro, I need,” Keith whimpered, but he didn’t know what to ask for.  Didn’t know what he wanted first. 

Shiro rose from his chest, reaching out a hand and running his thumb over Keith’s lips, silently asking.  Keith looked him in the eyes, letting his desires and wants and grief from the past year fuel him.  He took Shiro’s finger into his mouth, sucking on it so readily, coating it in spit.

Shiro groaned, deep and manly, shoving his fingers deeper into Keith’s mouth while simultaneously rocking his hips.  Keith’s eyes flew into the back of his, his mouth popping open only briefly so Shiro could see the swell of spit coating his finger as it rested on Keith’s tongue.  Keith whined, high, quiet and needy.

“Baby, fuck,” Shiro grunted, removing his finger from Keith’s mouth to immediately slip beneath his ass.  Keith raised his hips in a gesture that pleaded him to hurry.  “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.”

Keith could’ve cum there and then.  He held back, barely, his face red and his mouth open in a silent pant.

Shiro was over him again, their foreheads pressed together and Shiro gazed at Keith under long lashes, rubbing his hole with his bionic hand.  When and where Shiro had managed to slick his fingers with lube Keith didn’t know, but the finger pressing against his hole was such a turn on it didn’t matter.  Keith spread his legs impossibly wider.

“I’m going to erase the memory of every other guy that has ever laid a hand on you,” Shiro was growling now.  Keith felt his human hand holding his chest, thumb rubbing over a pink nipple.  A finger pushed into him, Keith mewled.  “I’m going to make you mine.  So hard and so fast you won’t be able to walk for a week.  I’m going to do to you exactly what you want and more.  I’m going to give it to you so good you’ll think you had died.  I’m going to wreck you, sweetheart; ruin you forever.”

Keith was fucking himself on Shiro’s fingers now, a second one having entered him sometime during Shiro’s words.  Keith was more than okay with that, welcomed the stretch and burn.  Shiro was careful though, took his time working Keith open.  Adding more lube and a third finger, than a fourth until Keith was sobbing, begging Shiro with a call of his name.

“Honey, shush, it’s okay.  You don’t need to cry anymore.” Shiro was licking at his nipples, nibbled at them, sucked spots up Keith’s chest as he continued to rock his hips back on Shiro’s fingers.  Keith had his head thrown back, seeing spots behind his eyelids as Shiro’s fingers pressed against his prostate.  Shiro’s human hand wrapped around his dick, pumping it slowly.  Keith begged him to stop.  If he came too soon he’d hate himself.  He needed Shiro inside.

Shiro removed his fingers, Keith’s mouth flew open in a plea.  Shiro sucked on his neck, then gripped Keith’s jaw and forced it open with a strong thumb, kissing his way in, spit dribbling down Keith’s chin.  He didn’t care.  He didn’t care that he was acting more wanton and slutty then he had in months.  He just had a base need for Shiro.

Shiro ripped open a condom packet with his teeth and slid it on his rock-hard cock.  Keith tried not to think about it.  They had never needed condoms before, having both been tested early on in their relationship.  Keith tried not to think; that he was the reason Shiro was using one now.  That his actions had meant they needed one more layer between them. 

It’s not that Keith hadn’t practiced safe sex while throwing himself into his grief.  Mostly it was his myriad of partners who wanted to use them, but Keith pushed the need on those who tried to go without.  Diseases were one thing, but waking up with a stranger’s cum dribbling down his thighs worked Keith into a frenzy that took him hours to get out of. 

“Baby, don’t worry,” Shiro was saying.  He obviously saw Keith’s resentment towards the layer of latex.  Keith blinked, trying to hide his thoughts.  But the damage had been done.  Shiro held his head again, kissing him slow and deep.  Keith opened his thighs again, the kiss grounding him and reminding him it didn’t matter in the end.  That Shiro loved him so much and Keith loved him endlessly in return.  “Don’t think about it.  We’ll get you tested and be back to bare-backing before the week is up.” 

Keith laughed, wiping away his tears and winding his arms around Shiro’s neck as he pushed in.  All the prep had paid off, because Keith hardly felt any pain or burning.  Keith gasped, the feeling of being filled, and actually feeling it, so utterly foreign to him now.  He grappled at Shiro’s back, tried to fuck him in deeper, faster, wanting Shiro all in.

When Shiro bottomed out, Keith was seeing stars.  He’s legs were spread so wide his thighs were beginning to ache.  They trembled.  Shiro held them gently, stroked the soft skin, kissing Keith so full on the mouth Keith was sure he’d drown. 

“Fuck, Shiro,” Keith gasped, his voice hoarse and foreign sounding to him.  “Shiro, Shiro, _Shiro._ ”

Shiro began to thrust, shallow and slow at first then picked up speed as Keith became increasingly needy.  Keith arched his back, put his hands in his hair and moaned like a whore.  He ran his hands over his chest, tweaked his nipples and down his body to where Shiro’s hands gripped his hips.  Shiro was fucking him in earnest now, panting above him, both of them dripping with sweat.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Shiro gasped.  Keith lost himself to the feeling of Shiro, memories flooding back to him in waves, drowning him, so he was gasping for air as Shiro shoved himself inside.  “I can’t blame those men for wanting to see you like this; open and vulnerable and so needy.”

Keith moaned as Shiro hit a well-aimed thrust at that special bundle of nerves.  He clutched Shiro’s sweaty biceps, fingernails digging into the damp skin. 

“It’s okay though,” Keith managed to gasp out.  “I don’t need them.  I have you.  I’ll always have you.”

Shiro thrust harder, moaned louder.

“God, yes!  I’ll never let anyone else touch you ever again.”

Keith met Shiro’s thrusts back, the loud slapping of skin on skin filling the room and echoing off the walls.  Keith cried out as Shiro continued to jackhammer against his prostate, making his vision burn and his jaw ache from letting out his screams. 

Shiro wrapped a fist around Keith’s aching dick, pumping him, bringing him ever closer to the edge. 

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” Shiro growled, bending in half to kiss and lick and mouth at Keith’s lips and jaw.  “Cum for me.  Clench that tight ass around me.”

Keith was crying, moaning, his mouth open to Shiro as he felt his orgasm clawing at his stomach to get out.  Then Shiro’s lips moved to his ear.

 _“Baby, I’m here.  I’m right here.”_  

And that’s all it took.  Keith came in a frenzy of stretched limbs and silent screams, cum splattering across their chests, Shiro holding his legs open by his knees as he fucked into him one last time and growled through his own orgasm.  Keith panted, tears streaming down his face, his eyes wide in shock as Shiro buried his face in Keith’s hair, kissing his temple through his mattered hair.

“My beautiful boy,” Shiro was murmuring into the silence that filled the room, the only sounds their laboured breathing and Shiro’s words of praise.  “You were so good.”

Keith mewled and whimpered as Shiro pulled out, already missing him.  He deposited the condom into the trash, grabbing a cloth and carefully wiping Keith down.  He kissed all the spots as he cleaned. 

His navel, his chest, his neck, his jaw.  He wiped them clean and kissed them all.  Keith continued to look at Shiro with tired eyes, sated and so exhausted from the emotional trip he had just taken.

And happy.

Keith was so happy.

“I love you,” he found himself saying.  Shiro’s attention turned back to his face, the smile back in place, the one that told Keith all he needed to know.  It goes without saying that Keith loved him, but never a day would go by again where Keith wouldn’t remind him.

“I love you too, Keith,” Shiro was pulling them under the covers, settling beside Keith and wrapping him in his arms.  Keith wanted to spoon, but he also never wanted to look away from Shiro, from this beautiful man who had captured his life in a wild hurricane.  “I love you so goddamn much.”

Shiro nuzzled his nose into the hair under Keith’s ear, kissing the fine hairs there.  Keith hummed, sinking further into Shiro’s hold, turning his head so their lips could connect, slow and warm and peaceful.

“Do you want to sleep?” Shiro asked, and Keith shook his head. 

“Not for another week, at least,” he mumbled, though his eyes were heavy and he could feel himself falling as he rested his head on Shiro’s shoulder.  “If I close my eyes, you might disappear again.”

Shiro laughed warmly.

“Never, baby.  Never.”

\---

“Pretty sure that’s not how you play water polo, Lance,” Shiro called from his beach recliner, sunglasses nestled on the scar on his nose, laughing at his friend’s antiques.  Keith jostled awake at the sound, blinking under the sun, but settled back down on Shiro’s chest, nuzzling into his skin.

“I’m making up my own rules!” Lance stated, chucking the ball back over the net.  It landed, splashing water far enough it tickled Keith’s foot.  Allura brought her knees up to avoid the spray.  “Sorry, babe!”

“You can’t just make up rules!” Pidge was whining. 

“It’s two against one!  I need some help!”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“Not that kind of help, Pidge!”

Hunk laughed, retrieving the ball and volleying it back to Pidge so she could set.

Keith watched from his place on Shiro’s chest, bringing up a knee so he could tangle their legs together, humming when Shiro realised he was awake and started running his fingers through his hair, blunt nails raking over his scalp.

“Have a good nap?” Shiro asked him softly.  Keith hummed again in response, lifting his head so he could kiss Shiro’s jaw.

Allura was on the beach chair next to theirs, her hair in a tight braid over her shoulder, a book propped up on her knees.  She was looking at the people in the pool though, mainly at Lance.  She smiled when he got a ball to the head and fell back into the water, breaking the surface with an overdramatic whine, brown locks whipping around his head.

“Okay, okay, I’ll come join your team,” she said, putting her book down and shrugging off her sarong. 

“Babe, no!  I’ll be too distracted by your beauty and grace and be of no help to you!”

“Tough.”

Keith laughed at their bickering.  He had gotten used to it in only the few, short months he had been here.  He had gotten used to most things.

To the grounds that covered an enormous amount of space, yet guards were posted along every wall that fenced them off from the rest of the world.  To the endless hallways and turns and staircases that led every which way in the house.  He had gotten lost so many times in the first few weeks, on the very rare occasion he left Shiro’s side.  He had gotten used to this ragtag group of people that were Shiro’s allies, friends, team mates and family.  Now Keith was one of them.

He still wasn’t used to Shiro. 

“Red!  You should join us too!” Hunk was calling to him.  Yes, he even had his own colour.

“Then it’ll be uneven again!” Lance complained.

“Black can be on our team,” Hunk offered.  “You can have Keith.”

“Why do I get stuck with the mullet?!  And you can’t split up the husbands!”

Keith laughed again.  He could tell Shiro was looking at him, from the way his arm clutched him closer.  Keith opened his eyes to find it was true, Shiro was gazing at him, daring him to move.

“Nah, thanks.”  Shiro’s hold relaxed, only slightly.  “I think I’m good here.”

Keith settled back into his place, tucked under Shiro’s chin, fingers tracing faint lines over his stomach.

“I can join you!” Coran sounded.  He was just finishing cleaning the barbeque.  “After all, I was quite the tennis player back in my youth!”

“This is water polo!”

“I’m sure the same principles can be applied.  They called me The Adaptor, back in high school, for my special ability to adapt to all outcomes!”

Keith sniggered as he heard Lance complain as Coran joined them, getting in between him and his girlfriend. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Shiro asked him, quietly, so only Keith could hear.

“I’m good,” Keith answered, pressing a kiss to Shiro’s skin.  “I’m really good.”

“I’m glad.”

Keith didn’t fall back asleep, preferring to listen to the sound of Shiro’s heartbeat, to the sounds of his friends, his true friends, bickering and laughing and dunking each other into the water only metres away.  He felt the breeze on his face and let the smell of meat waft over him, his stomach sated from the feast from earlier.  He let Shiro play with the hand on his stomach, the rubber pad of his right thumb brushing over Keith’s knuckles, over the wedding band that sat comfortably right next to his engagement ring.  Where it belonged.

“You’re going back to Mexico this week, aren’t you?” Keith asked.  Shiro hummed in agreement.

“Just for a night, then I’ll come back once I’ve managed to sort that whole mess out.  It shouldn’t take more than a day.”

Keith propped himself up so his chin was digging into Shiro’s shoulder.

“You should stay there an extra day, at least.  You’ve been working yourself too hard, lately.” 

Shiro smiled at him, kissing his forehead.

“I hate being away from you for too long.”

Keith agreed.  He fucking hated when Shiro had to leave and couldn’t take Keith with him.  One day Keith would move up the ladder, and be so valuable to this cartel that they couldn’t afford to send Shiro anywhere without him.  He’d become Shiro’s right hand man, proud and strong, right by Shiro’s side.

But he also hated Shiro overworking himself.  One extra day in Mexico City wouldn’t kill him.  He hoped.

“I won’t mind,” Keith said, honest.  Though, of course, Shiro could hear every unspoken word in his voice. 

“Baby, I’d rather be here,” Shiro said, looking Keith in his violet eyes, his arm tightening around his waist.  “Right here.”


End file.
